


You will? I will.

by theimpossibleimpala



Series: Why Can't It Start Here [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arcade, Break Up, Childhood Friendship, Custody Battle, Drabble, Drinking, False Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Karaoke, Lisa/Dean is no where near the focus, Multi, OR IS IT, One Shot, Pillow Fight, Sam's in foster care, Slice of Life, Story Prompt, Take my idea and make it a bigger better story please, Totally platonic dude bros getting platonically married and platonically adopting Sam, Unrequited Love, Young!Sam, fake married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7356088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossibleimpala/pseuds/theimpossibleimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is in the care of complete strangers and has been for the past several years since Mary died. However, with Dean freshly turned 21 he is legally allowed to have custody over his brother...with a few requirements.</p>
<p>He needs a steady income (easy, he's got that), a house (alright), and... A spouse. He doesn't got that. But... Lisa would marry him right? Right? </p>
<p>There's no one else he could ask...except maybe... No! No. Not him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You will? I will.

**Author's Note:**

> We as a fandom have created thousands of universes in which the Winchester brothers and their Angel live happy and hectic lives. But each of these stories begin somewhere.
> 
> Maybe Cas spills coffee on Dean and they laugh it off and get a new cup together. Maybe Jess and Sam are getting married and Dean meets Cas at their wedding. Sometimes the story is about a baker and bartender, or an artist and a writer, and sometimes it's about a hunter and an angel.
> 
> But still, these stories start somewhere - and mine? well, Why Can't It Start Here?

 

"SOOO... WHAT EXACTLY are you saying?" Dean asks, staring blankly at the paper in his hand.

An older, bitchy, brunette lady with her hair in a bun and a face like she was eating a lemon glares at him from over her absurdly enormous and empty desk.

"I'm saying, Mr. Winchester, that our state custody laws clearly say that in order for a child to be adopted there must be two married parents at home."

"I don't understand, I'm his _brother_ not his father."

"It doesn't matter, by legally taking responsibility of a child you are on taking on the duties of a parent, and therefore we must expect you to behave like one. And in this case," she taps the table irritably with her silver pen, "you must be married."

"That's BS, there are tons of single parents out there. Tons. I'd be no different."

Naomi, that's the woman, just leans back in her chair with a shrug. "I'm sorry, Dean, but that's the way it is. There's nothing I can do."

Only she doesn't _sound_ sorry. She sounds fucking indifferent and it's driving Dean nuts. Who the hell lets this chick dictate where kids go? 

"Besides, you're young. Very young. Don't you think you should settle into adult life before you make a huge decision like this?"

Oh, that's the last straw. This has never been a choice. Never. Sammy is his _brother_ , and his brother deserves a home with his family, not some apartment filled with snot-nosed bullies. And okay, maybe it's not fair to talk about orphans like that, but _still_. He's pissed. So pissed, in fact, he gets up, slams his hands on the desk, and growls:

"Then it's a damn good thing I'm engaged."

...and storms right the hell out of her OCD office clutching two packets of custody papers for Dean and his "partner" to fill out.

—

Which would be fine, of course. If he were actually about to get hitched.

—

Dean drinks another whiskey and ignores the thought that this is probably _not_ the best thing for an aspiring parent to be doing. The bartender returns with the bottle and sets it down on the counter in front of him.

"You're lookin' rough for bein' so young, kid."

"Yeah, well..." he shrugs and avoids eye contact.

"What's wrong? College money runnin' short?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

This is true. But not because Dean's not going to college, but because his parents left behind a shocking amount of money and he's pretty much covered for the rest of his life if he's smart.

"Just... Stupid state laws."

"Yeah?" The bartender snorts, filling his glass without prompt. "I always say that if you can't get by the law, and you don't wanna break it, you just trick it bit. Follow the rules, but get creative."

"You have other customers," Dean says with a gesture.

"Good luck," They tell him and slide him the bill. It's a nice way of kicking him out.

Not that Dean did anything wrong, but everyone in this damned city seems to think the best thing for sad person to do is to sober up. Which, is fucking ridiculous, but whatever – he's gotten the liquid courage he needs to make his next move.

He ducks into the alleyway outside the bar and reaches for his ancient flip phone, he just needs _someone_ to tell him he's doing the right thing.

"Dean?" Says a fatherly, familiar voice, "Why the damned hell are you callin' me at ass o'clock at night?"

"Hiya, Bobby, I just... Needed to ask you something."

"Well get at it, boy."

"Um..." Here he pauses and runs a hand over his chin, "So I'm trying to..."

"Spit it out," Bobbys grunts.

"I'm tryin to get custody of Sammy, Bobby."

There's a silence. It's what he's expecting, followed by a fifteen minute rant on why Dean's not ready for this sort of responsibility. But _nobody_ seems to get it, Dean has to do this. It was his father's dying wish; to look after Sammy. And hell if Dean's gonna let anything stand in his way. He's going to be fine. They _both_ will be.

"Really?" And for once it doesn't sound like Dean's pseudo-father is bitching at him. "You're gonna do that?"

"I got the paperwork, I'm old enough. I got a good job and house and everything."

"You have a house?"

"Well...Lisa does," he admits.

"Oh. I see. And she's good with all this?"

"Um..." Another pause as Dean tries to get his bearings, "I haven't actually, uh, told her yet."

"Don't you think ya oughta do that? I mean, I think it's great you're doin' this son, but be smart about it alright? Don't piss anyone off."

"I know, I know. I'm trying to be. But man... They told me I'm missing something today."

"What? Money? I thought you were loaded now."

"No, no, not money," Dean sighs. If only it were that easy.

"What, then?"

"I have to be..." a lump rises in his throat as he chokes out the truth, "married."

Bobby suddenly has  a coughing fit on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry, can you say that again? _Married??_ That's insane. What are ya gonna do?"

Dean shrugs even though the other man can't see, "I don't know. I guess get married."

"To _who??_ " Bobby asks incredulously, "Not _Lisa_ , I hope. Please tell me you're not just gonna use her to do this."

"What's wrong with Lisa?" Dean demands defensively, "And it's not like I'd be forcing her into anything, we've been together for three years, Bobby. That's about long enough to spring the question don't you think?" Bobby seems about to interrupt but Dean plows right on, "Besides, she already has a son, and she loves kids. She wouldn't mind having Sam around. And we _love each other_ , Bobby, I don't see the issue."

"Then why did you call me, Dean?" Bobby questions calmly.

"I don't know, so you could tell me it'll be fine."

"I think ya oughta do what your heart says, Dean. Do you really want to marry Lisa? You're so young, the both of you. Or do you think you should wait until the right gu– _girl_ , comes along?"

"But what if there's no one else? What if this is my only chance?"

"You see your brother every damned week, it's not like you were separated at birth. You'll be alright, Dean. And who knows? Maybe Sam'll get taken in by a –"

"Absolutely fucking _not_ , Bobby. He's not getting shipped off to some other family; I'm his _family_! I'm his _blood_!"

"Don't raise your tone at me, boy! You called for my word and I'm giving it to ya! And I don't care if you don't like it, you need to hear it!"

"No, Bobby, I don't," and with that Dean snaps his phone shut and leans against the brick alley wall.

—

Dean steps into Lisa's house a dozen minutes later, his speech planned in that much time. His girlfriend knows Sam is in the foster system and that Dean hates it, but she doesn't know about his growing obsession over it and his conviction to get Sam out himself. He's not sure how she'll take it, but if he can just say his spiel before she shuts him down...

"Dean?" A living room light flicks on to reveal Lisa in a red robe lingering at the mouth of the hall. "You're home late."

"I know, I'm sorry, Lis. It's been a tough day."

"Where were you?" She folds her arms over chest and starts over to him. He gestures at the couch and takes a seat, she does the same, surveying him. "Has something happened?"

"No, nothing bad. I just... Need to talk to you about something important."

She nods, and then her expression changes, like she knows exactly what he's going to say. 

"I've been needing to talk to you too, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiles. But it's a weird smile. Dean doesn't understand it.

"Um," he clears his throat, rubbing his hands together, "Who wants to go first?"

"Would you like too?"

Yes, yes he would. He dives straight in.

"Last week I turned twenty-one. Which is great 'cus I can drink legally and buy stuff and go places, but the thing is I can also... I can also get custody of my brother."

Lisa raises her eyebrows and her mouth opens slightly. He's not sure this is a good thing.

"And so today I went to the office and got some papers to fill out to do it. And it's not too hard, really. I need income and...a house. And..."

Dean stops because it's clear Lisa knows what he's going to say next. She's crying into her hands so Dean reaches over to take them into his own. She looks up, sniffling and shaking her head.

"I have a chance to get my brother back. And I know it's sudden, but we've practically been raising Ben together for years, and we live together, and we make each other happy. I love you," at this Lisa sobs again, hunching forward and taking her hands back. "Lisa, to get Sam I need to be married. A sturdy household. And, and – will you marry me?"

Dean doesn't drop to one knee because he's holding Lisa in his arms as she cries, running a palm down her back and speaking softly. 

"I'm not just asking 'cus I need you to _do_ _this_ , I do really think we could live the rest of our lives really happily here, _together_."

No answer. Just more tears.

"Will you marry me, Lis?"

He holds her up, wiping her face with his thumbs. On a whim, he slips off his mother's wedding band and hold it out to her as a question.

Lisa shakes her and makes a sad choking sound. Dean doesn't understand.

"I should have gone first," she whimpers. 

"You...what?" Dean whispers, eyes widening.

"Dean," and she places a soft hand on the side of his face. "I care about you a lot. I do. But we've been together three years, and I just don't feel the spark anymore. I just don't feel...excited about... _us_."

Dean's been rendered speechless.

"I love you for how amazing you are with Ben, and how passionate you are about so many things, but I just don't see us...as lovers anymore, Dean. I see us as friends."

Dean's stopped feeling. Stopped feeling everything. He stares at Lisa. And...it doesn't hurt. His heart isn't breaking, he's not asking how to live without her... In fact, in a matter of seconds he's accreted it moved on. Just like that. 

"Dean?" She places a hand on his arm.

"It's... I'm... Fine."

"Do you...want to talk about what's next?"

"No," he doesn't, actually.

"Okay. But, um, you're still welcome here, okay? You'll always be. Please come see Ben at least. I know he'll miss you. And, uh, you're free to sleep here until you find a new place."

"I...got somewhere."

He's dazed and out of it by about three miles but that's weirdly okay. 

"Do you need to call anyone? I – I'm so sorry Dean. I'm so sorry, I was gonna wait a bit longer to tell you... Be more gentle...but I didn't really have a choice here."

"I get it," No he doesn't. Why couldn't she just humour him and marry him for a year? Help him adopt Sammy and then they gradually drift apart and _then_ break up. Or divorce or whatever. Why is the universe against him? He wants his brother back, is that so much to ask?

"Dean..." Murmurs Lisa softly, twisting her fingers into his.

"Lisa..." Dean says backing away from her.

"Stay the night, okay?"

"No, I don't think I will," his tone is bitter and he can how it slaps her across the face.

"Dean, c'mon, it's late," Lisa tries again.

"No, I mean it. I'm going. I'll come by later to pack up my stuff."

Dean stands and grabs his keys off the coffee table, feeling numb. His mind is whirling, heart racing, he does have some where he can go – he just doesn't want to. He doesn't want to because Lisa said _no_ , for god sakes, and that means there's _no one else_ he can turn to except...

No! _No no no_ , he repeats in his head over and over. He can't possibly ask his best friend for an insane favor like this. That would be unkind and selfish. And anyway, they couldn't pull off something like that – pretending to be married – they barely even _hug_ , much less act all cozy and domestic with each other. (Only, that may be because Dean won't let them touch too long, and goes out of his way to avoid cuddling. Though, he hasn't quite managed to stop the soulful stares he and his best friend give each other; he tells himself that he couldn't if he tried, but maybe the truth is a little more complicated.)

Suddenly Dean finds himself in the impala, ignition started, and pulling out of the driveway. 

_Goodbye, Lisa_ , he thinks. And he wonders why it's painless.

_He wonders why it's freeing._

And this is the moment he realises he won't miss her _._

—

CASTIEL WAKES with a jerk, hand flying out towards his phone and checking the time. _1:17 am_.

He pulls off his sheets groggily, confused at being consious six hours before scheduled. Cas is halfway to the bathroom when the insistent knocking on his front door registers in his brain.

He stares at the door a long while before moving towards it, picking up a mug in a menacing grip as he passes by his kitchen table (stacked high with dishes, newspapers, and books). Really, nobody should be here at this hour. He holds his mug like a weapon and presses it against the door as he reaches for the latch and undoes it. Carefully, he pulls open the door, shielding most his body with it.

Immediately, he's bombarded by a  rough (but beautiful) voice.

"Cas _, will you marry me_?"

—

Dean's shocked by the words that came out of his mouth, if he's being perfectly honest. 

It wasn't supposed to go like that. He had planned to sit Cas down and run down the issue like he had with Lisa, he'd expected to briefly explain how he'd broken up with her not an hour ago, he'd expected Cas to whip up breakfast burritos and force them to watch reruns of _The Price is Right_. He expected Cas would ask for a month to consider it and Dean expected he himself would be alright with that. 

What he doesn't expect is to blurt out the end of the conversation at the beginning. 

What he doesn't expect is to not have to wait for an answer.

"Of course," Cas says without so much as batting an eyelash.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –" He blanches at Cas then, "Wait, _what_?"

"I said," Cas repeats gesturing for Dean to come inside, "of _course_."

"I don't..." Dean enters and whirls around to face Cas as he shuts the door and leans against it.

"I assume you're asking for a good reason, and I assume it's some sort of emergency, and I also assume you  want it to be a platonic relationship," Cas shrugs, "and assuming I'm right, which I usually am about you, then of course I'll marry you. Strictly platonically."

"You..." Dean trails off, gaping, staring, dazed, "You will?"

Cas nods, "I will."

"Why?"

"Because you need me."

Castiel has never been more right. Now, more than ever, Dean needs him.

"Sit down, Dean. I'll get you a drink and you can explain yourself."

Dean stumbles over to the futon in front of the tv and flops down on his back, legs up so he's lying completely horizontally on the cushion. Castiel's apartment is small, a huge mess, but also cozy as hell. Some pizza boxes and fast-food containers are littered in the corner, and the walls are covered in framed photographs. They aren't pictures Cas took, they're generic black and white photos of Paris, Rio, London, and a dozen other places Cas wants to visit. Only Cas has never made it out of Maine. Ironically enough, he writes weekly articles in a travel magazine as hobby. Dean realises with a jolt that if him and Cas actually fucking get married (even if it just for show), he'll be pinning his best friend down even more than he already has. Cas wants to travel the world, and Dean is happy at home. 

Castiel approaches with a Corona in hand and Dean takes it with a grunt of thanks. The alchohol he consumed earlier has warren off and the new beer is crisp and refreshing. Cas sits cross legged on a patch of carpet in front of Dean and rests his chin on top of his folded arms that are settled on the futon by Dean's side. Cas is really very close and Dean is really very tired and Dean also knows very well why exactly he's not upset about losing Lisa. Because he could, if he's very lucky, gain someone much better.

Cas smiles gently at him, "What's going on Dean?"

Dean takes a deep breath and then launches into describing the adoption process and how important Sam is to him. And when he gets to the part about Lisa breaking up with him Cas runs a soothing hand up and down Dean's arm. 

"I'm so sorry," Cas says sincerely.

"It's fine, really. I'm fine. I think I've always known me and her wouldn't be forever. Or maybe we would've but it woulda just been because I thought I couldn't get anything better," Dean looks at his best friend, "I mean we had everything. A house, we had jobs, took turns looking after her son. An applie pie life. Maybe I'm not cut out for that. Maybe I need a little more... I don't know... flexibility. Or something," Dean mumbles because he's not entirely sure what his point is.

"So, what do I need to do? Is there an interview required?"

"There's some paperwork," Dean tells Cas as he sits up and reaches for them from his coat pocket, "Got a bit crumpled, but whatever. There's a packet for each of us. And Naomi didn't mention a meeting, but knowing her she'll probably ask for one."

"Okay, that should be easy enough."

"You really think so?"

"Of course Dean, I've known you for eight years. I think we can pull off being a couple for an hour or two."

"But Cas," Dean says urgently, he has to be sure his friend knows what he's signing up for, "this is like, commitment. I mean yeah, we won't have to be devoted to each other or any of that crap, but still. We'll have to be together at least a year. The state does monthly check-ups on first time adopters to make sure kids are getting taken care of. We'll have to be... I don't know... In for the long haul, I guess."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," Cas whispers all too kindly, his hand tightening where it holds Dean's arm. Dean looks down at him and gives a half smile, "I will be thrilled to help you do this."

"Are you one-hundred percent sure?"

"One-hundred and fifteen percent."

This is the moment where Dean would lean in for a kiss if him and Cas were actually together. Actually engaged. Actually married. And he imagines it would be wonderful, but he can't kiss Cas. Not now. He can't screw up their friendship.

"Okay."

"Where do we start?"

"Um," Cas shifts up onto the futon beside Dean. Their legs and sides are completely touching and Dean tries to ignore how _warm_ the other man is, "Well, we need our love story right, Dean? So, where did we meet?"

"At an arcade, you were trying to play that Star Wars game but you couldn't figure out how the controls worked," Dean supplies. And it's the truth. He smiles at the memory.

"Yeah, and you'd been at a game a few over, one of those games with fake guns. And you'd just sort of stood there watching me fail and then –" Cas catches Dean's eyes with a mock-threatening look, "and then you just started _laughing_ at me. It was really very rude, you know."

"I apologised! Jeesh!" Dean laughs. 

"Not really!" Cas replies with a grin, "You just said," and here Cas deepens his voice as if to be Dean, " _Sorry, man, let a pro show you how it's done_ , and then you stole my machine and just blasted off all the aliens!"

"While _you_ watched in _envy_ ," Dean reminds him.

"Exactly," Cas huffs, " _rude_."

"Okay, maybe a bit," Dean admits.

He smirks and Cas can't help but break into smile. He pushes Dean's shoulder but it's all in good spirit. They slouch back together and Cas speaks again.

"Okay, obviously we remember how we met, but when did we start dating?"

The question is innocent enough  and yet it sends a sickening wave through Dean's stomach. The way his friend asked it, made it sound like they were _actually dating_ , and if Dean blocked out everything but this room, he could believe that to be true.

"Um, you know in junior year when I first got like a real girlfriend?"

Cas nods.

"Well, how about I broke up with her because I realised the only reason I was dating her was so I wouldn't always think about you," Dean says this all very fast and he thinks Cas mostly understands. This wasn't an idea he just came up with, this was the truth. That's why Dean had dated her, and then it hurt too much to kiss her when he really wanted to be kissing his dude best friend. The next part isn't true, but Dean wishes it was, "After I broke up with her I finally got the guts to ask you to prom, and you said yes."

For a moment Castiel doesn't say anything, and Dean fears he said too much (with too much heart) and gave himself away.

"That sounds...perfect," Cas tells him at least. Dean lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding and glances away. His fingers have somehow ended up clutching the edge of the futon in a death grip. And not for the first time tonight, Dean wonders if he'll be able to live through a year of being fake-married to Cas. 

"Who proposed?" Dean asks before an awkward silence can creep up on them.

"I did," Cas replies quickly, "two years ago when we went on that trip to Las Vegas. Remember, I'd won a ton of money playing blackjack, so how about I decided to blow it all on an engagement ring. I went and bought one and when we met back up at the bar, and you were telling me about –"

"About how I wanted to be that happy with you all the time," Dean intterjects. These memories they're constructing _sound_ real, _feel_ real. They're fake (even if a good portion of what they're saying has actually happened), and yet the thought of them fills him with an unexplainable giddy happiness.

"Yeah," Cas smiles, "and then I, um, asked if that meant you wanted to be with me forever."

"And I told you of course I did, you were my best friend in the world. You were my everything," Dean says, and these memories are still true. He did say that then. Sure, he'd been a little tipsy and high off of gambling, but he'd literally told Cas that he was Dean's everything.

"And that's when I proposed," Cas finishes.

"Yeah," Dean chokes out. Their gazes are connected and he's certainly not going to be the one to break it. Especially when their faces are mere inches apart, and he can feel Cas's soft breath against his lips.

He suddenly wonders if when people get married they have to kiss after saying their vows. 

Cas turns his head back to the floor.

"How about we haven't actually gotten married yet because we didn't want it to be a big deal, and our plan was to just elope sometime, and now that you _have_ to get married, we just do it."

"Okay, sounds plausible."

"Tomorrow, then, Dean?"

"Tomorrow what?"

"Tomorrow we get our marriage license and get married."

"We don't have to do it that soon," Dean tells Cas, "you can take your time to make sure you're actually cool with this."

"No, no, let's just do it," Cas turns to him with a grin, "let's trick the law, huh? It could be fun."

Dean squints at his friend (something he picked up from Cas) and tilts his head, "Why do you got your scheming face on?"

"I don't have a _scheming_ face," Cas laughs.

"Uh, then what's that?" Dean chuckles as he gestures at Cas's expression.

"My regular face," Cas deadpans, but the usual effect is lost in Cas's smile.

"What're you thinking?"

"Just that we should make a day of it. Let's visit the arcade we first met in, and maybe get a fancy dinner, go to a club or a bar once we're officially married."

"That sounds great, Cas," Dean says, "aren't you a softie."

"Shut up, Dean. I still know about your 'I wuv hugs' t-shirt," Cas teases.

"Can't _believe_ Sam told you about that.... And that you hold it over me!"

Cas shrugs, "Gotta use what you got."

"Speaking of Sam," Cas adds, "What should we tell him? I mean, how would he feel about us being married?"

"Honestly, I don't think he'll care. I'm just worried that if we tell him it's all just for...show, then he won't be able to keep the secret."

"That is true, I mean, we both know how well he kept your hugs shirt a secret."

"Shut up, Cas!" Dean laughs and hits him with a pillow. 

"Oh _no_ you didn't," Cas turns to him, simultaneously picking up another pillow from the floor.

"Oh _yes_ I did," Dean beams at his best friend.

"You're going to _regret_ that, Winchester."

"Prove it, _Novak_."

And that's when the pillow hits Dean's face and knocks him sideways onto the couch. Once the cushion comes off his face, Dean strikes out with his own, hitting Cas firmly against the wrist and sending Cas's pillow flying.

"Oh, fuck you," Castiel growls and fights for Dean's wrists.

Dean's laying on the futon with his knees up, Cas leaning over them and struggling to catch Dean's hands. Dean strikes the other with the pillow again in the face, and Cas responds by simply climbing over Dean's knees and straddling his waist. Dean's so shocked by having Cas, so heavy and warm, on top of him that he just gapes, giving Cas the perfect opportunity to grab both his wrists and pin them together above his head. Cas has taken Dean's pillow in his other hand is holding it tauntingly above Dean's face.

" _Ha_ ," Cas says simply, not moving, "piece of cake. You didn't even last five minutes."

"Well you have home team advantage," Dean points out, trying _very_ hard not to get distracted by their position. 

And then Cas does something extremely unexpected, he lets the pillow drop to Dean's chest, and then separates Dean's hands so there's one in each of Cas's. Dean completely stops breathing when Cas interlocks their fingers and their stares meet. Dean's not smiling and neither is Cas. Dean's knees fall flat (or as flat as they can when his legs are bowed), Cas's knees push into the futon on either side of Dean, trapping him, Cas's head directly above Dean's. _Holy crap_ is Dean turned on; it's incredibly hot all of a sudden and his breathing is shallow. Years could have passed before Dean blinks, and the moment his eyes shut he regrets it. Cas's hands slip away...and Dean waits for Cas to climb off of him.

And then he doesn't.

Instead, Cas falls between Dean and the back of the futon, resting his head on Dean's chest. Dean slides his arm around Cas, then turns on his side so they're facing each other, huddled together sleepily. And though the room is still lit with lamps, and Dean is starving, they both fall asleep.

And _this_ is the moment Dean's heart swells with hope.

—

"You do realise there is zero chance you're gonna beat me at this," Dean says to Cas as he loads coins into the race car driving game at the arcade.

"You do realise that I totally beat you at the last four games, right?"

"Whatever, Cas. All I'm saying is, I've been driving Baby for six years and you've never even sat in the driver's seat. I'm kicking your ass, I guarantee it."

Dean sinks into the black leather chair, putting his foot up on the fake gas pedal and gripping the fake steering wheel. Cas does the same and begins turning the wheel to slide through the vehicle options on the screen in front of him. Dean picks a sleek red one that says it has the max horsepower, and Cas picks the same kind, only in a shade of blue. Once they've each set their preferences, their screens turn to a first-person view of their cars. Numbers tick down – 5, 4, 3, 2 – and at 1 they both floor the pedals and their race cars shoot forward on the racing map.

Somehow, Cas shoots ahead of Dean immediately and Dean bares his teeth in frustration, he swings the wheel around sharply at a turn and ends up slamming into a random stack of tires, completely spinning off course.

"Not looking so hot over there, Dean," Cas comments with a shit-eating grin.

"You shut your damn face, Cas," Dean snarls as he pulls his car out of the tires and sets off back down the track.

"No swearing Dean, there's children around," Cas says calmly as he slows to turn a corner. The fucker is in first place.

Dean grunts and his car accelerates past a dozen or so generic cars that are also in the race with them. Suddenly Cas gasps, and Dean knows his friend has crashed. He uses the mishap to his full advantage and before Cas can escape the ditch he slid into Dean's race car is shooting past.

"Dammit!"

"No swearing, Cas."

"You shut up, Dean."

Dean just laughs as his car passes over a bridge and then through a tunnel. He exits it and finds himself face-to-face with a cliff. His car smashes into it and Cas murmurs something beside him. Dean gets unstuck quickly, but by the time he's driving again Cas is only a few meters behind him, and the finish line is in sight for both of them.

"Oh, _come on_ ," Cas complains as his bumper taps the rear of Dean's car.

"Are you trying to run me off the damn road, Castiel?" Dean accuses, barely maintaining his lead.

"Damn straight I am."

Dean laughs, which is a mistake because his hands move and turn his car _just enough_ , for Cas to sidle up beside his car and bump it hard to the left. Dean's not pushed off the road, but it does leave a clear path for Cas to accelerate in front of him and pass the finish line a mere 1.3 seconds ahead of Dean.

"Ha!" Cas shouts as his screen shows a golden, sparkling trophy, "In your _face_ , Dean!"

"Wow, way to be humble winner, Cas," Dean tries to scowl but Cas's grin is infectious.

"Oooooo...." Cas awes as a dozen tickets begin ejecting from a slot beside him.

"Alright, alright. We're out of quarters. You get those and we'll trade them in."

Cas tugs out the tickets and hands them to Dean who has their combined stack. They walk up to the counter, Cas's hand on the small of Dean's back as they go. Without verbally agreeing it, they had decided to spend the day as a fake couple. So far, very little was different from the way they normally were besides an increased amount of touching. Dean piles their tickets on the glass cabinet and an attendant comes over to them.

"Alright guys, let me feed these to the machine an' I'll let you know yer number. For now y'all can look around the shelves and in these counters for the prizes y'all might want."

The girl takes their tickets and begins feeding them into a machine that counts them all.

"Can we get that stuffed animal?" Cas asks, pointing at a small hedgehog hanging on the wall across from them.

"Sure, it's only twenty," Dean agrees.

Cas peers down through the glass counter at numerous fake-gold and silver rings and various  necklaces.

"Dean, what're we going to do for rings?"

"You aren't about to suggest we get those fake metal ones are you?" Though as Dean's saying it, it doesn't sound like a half bad idea. "Actually, if that is what you were gonna say maybe that could be cool."

"Yeah?" Cas looks up at him, an adorable smile on his face.

"Yeah," Dean moves closer to him, wrapping and arm around his best friend's waist, "They're thirty-five each, and we should get three, so I can wear one as an engagement ring."

"I may have to give up the hedgehog..." Cas ponders, "but that's fine."

The attendant returns with a receipt in hand, giving it to Dean, "Here, you had one-hundred and ten tickets. Pretty good, I gotta say."

"Thanks," Dean's smiles, "but it was mostly my boyfriend's work."

He feels Cas tense slightly at the title, and Dean squeezes his side.

"Can we get three of those rings, please?" He points at the silver ones. The fake-gold ones would rub off on their fingers.

"Sure," she reaches in for the basket, "you pick your favourites."

"You pick mine, Cas," Dean says and Castiel nods.

Soon they have their choices and Dean spends the remaining five tickets on a small candy bar that he and Cas split on their way to the impala. They get in and Dean tucks the wrapper in a pocket, turning on the car and looking over at the other man.

"Where to, Cas?"

Cas smiles, but it seems more nervous, sadder than it has all day. 

"The courthouse. For our license."

Dean nods and soon their off.

—

The marriage license is easy enough to get, it just requires a head-aching amount of paperwork and way more private information being handed over to strangers than seems necessary. When at last they have the rather regal looking card stock license, Dean looks over at Cas again.

"Are you sure, Cas? We can wait, we don't even have to do this – er, you don't."

"Dean," Cas says in his you-deserve-everything voice, his hand on Dean's knee, "I'm sure."

"Okay."

And with that, Dean writes his signature on the thin,  black, line, his D and W large and looped, the other letters small and nearly indistinguishable from each other. Castiel takes the pen next, and writes out his name with elegance, every letter legible and crafted like a cursive computer font.

For a minute they just stare at the words on the paper, the meaning behind them sinking in. This doesn't mean they're married yet, it just means they now have permission to be.

There's a lump caught in Dean's throat and he tries to swallow as he realises he needs to tell Cas the truth. He needs to tell Cas that he's in love with him and that whatever they're going to pretend be, feels like _way_ more than pretend to him. It feels like a dream come true that's really just a carefully constructed lie. It feels like a nightmare with good intentions.

—

Maine is a shockingly progressive state, one of the first to allow gay marriage, and because of it nearly every church here is supportive and accepting of queer people. Which, is why when they're told no judge is available to marry them, they drive to the nearest church and step through the massive doors hand in hand.

Cas had revealed a silver flask on the drive over, taking a few gulps and offering Dean the rest. Dean was never one to turn down a drink. Liquid courage, was all it was, liquid courage. He hasn't told Cas what he should, but now it's pretty much too late. Dean's going to have to ride it out. A year. One year. A one year real-but-fake marriage. 

It's only six in the evening, so several people are sitting on the pews inside the massive, historical church. There is a priest at the head of the room, arranging a number of flowers and candles on the edge of a raised platform. The Father looks around and spots Dean and Cas coming towards him.

The fake couple give him an awkward smile and introduce themselves, showing their marriage certificate and explaining they would like to be married tonight. The priest looks them up and down, comments on their young age and makes sure it's what they both want. They say it is and he leads them up on top of the platform. 

The people praying in the pews notice what's going on and move to the front of the room to watch the procession; Cas and Dean's wedding has an audience of seven.

"Take one another's hands," directs the priest. 

Cas's hands are warm and Dean's are freezing. Castiel gives him a broad smile, and Dean allows himself to be happy, to sink into the illusion and pretend it is all real, that it all means something more than adoption papers and giving Sam a home; that it means he and Cas are mutually in love and spending the rest of their lives together.

"Friends, we have joined here today to share with Dean Winchester," the Father smiles at Dean, then at Cas, "and Castiel Novak, an important moment in their lives. In their time together, they have seen their love and understanding of each other grow and blossom and now they have decided to live out the rest of their lives as one."

"I will now read an excerpt from the novel Lucky, by Jackie Collins."

This had been Cas's idea, to include something unique for their wedding. To make it theirs. Dean didn't read it, so he's not sure what the passage will say or what it's going to mean. Will it be an inside joke? or something more substantial?

"Falling in love is like getting hit by a truck and yet not being mortally wounded. Just sick to your stomach, high one minute, low the next. Starving, hungry but unable to eat. Hot, cold, forever dreaming, full of hope and enthusiasm, with momentary depressions that wipe you out."

The priest's voice is smooth and eloquent, saying the words like they were _meant_ to be said that way. In Dean's peripheral vision, he can see their audience smiling. He thinks he hears an older woman sniffle.

Really though, he can't hear anything at all. And he certainly can't see anything other than Cas's glowing blue eyes and soft smile, which Dean returns. Their hands tighten in each other's grip.

"It is also not being able to remove the smile from your face, loving life with a mad passionate intensity, and feeling ten years younger."

Dean's probably loved Cas since they first met but it took until their junior year to realise it. He wonders _what_ exactly made him figure it out. 

Was it because no matter what foster home Dean got put in Cas went out of his way to see him weekly? Was it because they lucked out and went to their last year's of high school together and were inseparable? Was it when Dean crashed the impala and rebuilt it from the ground up, and Cas kept him company for every single hour of it? Did he fall in love in Las Vegas when Cas revealed a huge wad of cash and a million-dollar grin? Or had it maybe been during the three months when Castiel was away traveling Australia; had Cas's absence brought to surface Dean's desperate need for his presence?

"Love does not appear with any warning signs. You fall into it as if pushed from a high diving board. No time to think about what's happening. It's inevitable. An event you can't control. A crazy, heart-stopping, roller-coaster ride that just has to take its course."

The Father pauses a moment over the final words before folding up the paper Cas had given him, and continuing with the ceremony.

"Are you both ready to say your vows?"

Cas and Dean nod in unison, their gazes not breaking from each other. Dean's throat has gone dry at the anticipation of pledging himself to Castiel. 

"Do you both swear to have and to hold each other, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you apart?"

Simultaneously they say, "We do."

"Alright," the Father clears his throat, "Dean Winchester, do you take Castiel Novak to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Dean's breath catches, and he struggles to get the two tiny words out. They carry an impossible weight with him, and probably very little for Cas.

"I do."

"Castiel Novak, do you take Dean Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"You may exchange the rings."

Castiel pulls out a silver one from the arcade and holds it out. He slides Dean's other one, the engagement ring, off and as he slides on the new one (with a slightly different pattern engraved in the bendable metal) he repeats the priest's words.

"I, Castiel, give this ring to you, Dean, as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you..." Cas pushes it on, and to everyone's surprise, keeps speaking, "And my promise to forever be your friend and support you, no matter what life throws at us."

Dean squeezes his eyes shut briefly, taking a steadying breath, and then reaches for the fake ring in his pocket. He freezes, and realises that's not at all the ring he wants to put on Cas's finger. He slips off his mother's ring, and holds it out.

"I, Dean Winchester, give this ring to you, Cas, as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you," he pushes the ring on his best friend, "And my promise that you will, and always have been, my family, and that I will never stop needing you."

The priest gives them a long while to simply look at each other and think over everything that has transpired this evening. Dean's heart is hammering and he can feel his hands shaking. Cas squeezes them in his own in reassurance, but it hardly helps. 

"By the power vested in me, by the State of Maine, I hereby pronou —"

And this is the moment where Dean loses it. Where he bursts from the tension, the fear, the hope, and the impossibility of this entire event.

"Cas, _I love you_."

Cas's eyes widen and he looks about to say something.

"I love you," Dean repeats desperately. It's not a joke, it's not pretend, it's not part of their charade. It's real and true and Cas has the right to know.

What sort of world is Dean living in, where he has to make sure the person he's marrying is okay with being loved by him?

Castiel doesn't say a word. Doesn't smile or nod or _anything_ , he just stares blankly back at Dean.

The priest chuckles softly, clearly not picking up on the heartbroken look on Dean's face, and thinking Dean is just terribly, terribly, in love. Which, in retrospect, is true.

"By the power vested in me," the Father begins again, "I hereby prounouce you, Dean Winchester, and you, Castiel Novak, husband and husband."

A pause.

"You may kiss the groom."

Nobody moves, the room holds it breath, the tension grows until it peaks and Cas and Dean meet the middle for short, chaste kiss.

The audience claps, the priest showers them with rice, and Dean and his best friend give fake smiles to them all, including one another.

—

Three shots in and Dean can't feel a thing because he's already gone numb. He told Cas, and now he's pretty sure he's ruined everything.  

Castiel dissapeared a half hour ago into the crowd in the dance floor, a martini in hand, and Dean hasn't seen him since. The entire room thrums with energy that feels leeched out of Dean. He's so tired, so very tired, and impossibly sad. Fuck _, this wasn't supposed to happen!!_ It was supposed to be easy – a few vows, a few signatures, and then adopting Sammy. A year of easy living in Castiel's apartment, walking Sam to school during the week and being home in time for dinner after work. 

It was supposed be him and his best friend bending the law to their will and taking matters into their own hands. It had turned into something corrupted and insane, it had turned into a mistake.

Dean sighs into his hands, a new drink being poured in front of him by the bartender. He downs it eagerly, waiting for the pain to melt away entirely. The music changes to something familiar, Dean can't even say what it is but he knows for certain he has it on cassette in his car. He stands groggily, swaying slightly and gripping the counter so as not to fall over. He staggers to the dance floor, and at once people envelope him on all sides. Dean's not much of a dancer, never has been, but he's drunk enough not to care. He moves his arms and sways his hips and shuts his eyes. At some point a lady dressed skimpily and with intensely dark make-up on joins him and presses the front of her body against him. He goes with it because he doesn't care.

A song or two later, Dean finds himself having danced before a stage where a chick is singing karaoke. Her voice is shrill and a glass of champagne is clutched in one hand, but Dean hoots and claps when her song comes to a close. Then, suddenly, he's the one on stage telling an unnervingly sober worker what song he wants. A microphone in a stand is placed in front of him and he holds onto it like a life raft as the bar rises and falls in waves around him.

Music start playing and Dean waits for words to start scrolling on the screen across from him. He's vaguely aware of the crowd slowing down their dance, moving together more gently. A clearing appears in the middle of the audience, leaving a space where one man is simply just standing there, staring up at the stage with large, blue eyes...

" _I can't fight this feeling any longer..._ " Dean sings without thought, without reading the words, " _And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow...what started out as friendship, has grown stronger_..." this is the moment where Dean recognises the face in the audience as Cas, so he sings louder, " _I only wish I had the strength to let it show_..."

He takes a deep breath and goes on, " _I tell myself that I can't hold out forever...I said there is no reason for my fear.._."

The room spins a little faster and everything gets a little blurrier. Everything hurts a little less.

Dean forgets a line and picks up with, " _You give my life direction,  
You make everything so clear_..."

And _this_ is the moment when Dean feels the tears on his face and remembers everything that's happened tonight. How he's married to his best friend and immensely in love with him, but also how Cas doesn't love him back. 

The next part of the song sounds smoother than he could have thought possible, he's on a roll now that the chorus is nearly here.

" _And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, you're a candle in the window, on a cold, dark winter's night_..." Castiel has dissapeared into the dancing bodies and Dean searches for him distractedly, " _And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might._.."

He stumbles as hot nausea hits his gut, he fumbles around the first line of the chorus, " _And I can't fight this feeling anymore_..."

A hand is suddenly gripping shoulder and leading him offstage mid-song. He argues with the person but doesn't have the strength to fight. When he sees it's Cas – out on the sidewalk in front of the bar – he starts sobbing uncontrollably.

—

A fearsome hangover and two days later Dean and Castiel stand outside Naomi's office, three feet apart.

"Cas, are you still sure about this?"

"Dean, we got married for Christ's sake," He reminds him flatly, "I think we've reached the point of no return."

"It's not too late," Dean offers quietly, more for his own sake than Cas's. The other man doesn't even look him in the eye, and hasn't for two days.

"Let's just get this over with," Cas mutters, grabbing Dean's hand. Cas's fingers are freezing and Dean's are warm.

Dean's stomach turns over a few times as he plasters a fake smile onto his face. They step into the office as a united front, when their hearts could not be further apart.

And this is the moment Dean realises just how freaking screwed he really is.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just my first installment in a series of Beginnings for Dean and Cas. I'm doing this because I sometimes have ideas for the start of fics but no clue how to progress them, but I want to share my ideas anyway.
> 
> That being said, if anyone has any interest in using this work as the set up for a story, I strongly encourage you to use it. I'd love to read it. Just let me know if you happen to actually want to.
> 
> FYI this means no, I will not be adding more to this particular fic (probably, but who knows?).
> 
> Stalk my tumblr @theimpossibleimpala.


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